


You Scratch My Itch, I'll Scratch Yours

by Venusdoom3



Series: Related Stucky One-Shots [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexuality, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Casual Sex, Curious Steve, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha has a great rack, Nipple Licking, Outdoor Sex, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Character Death, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is Hung, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: "Let's add everything up here. We're both kind of hard up at the moment. Neither of us wants to have sex with strangers, but we've known each other, what, two years now? And here we are, all alone in the middle of the woods with nothing to do for at least three more hours."





	You Scratch My Itch, I'll Scratch Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, between the stolen truck ride and encountering computerized Zola. 
> 
> I never write het -- EVER -- but this plot bunny wouldn't die, so I had no choice but to pet it and feed it cookies. I hope my fellow Stucky OTP'ers will forgive the temporary transgression. This fic does not interfere with that pairing; trust me!
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine, although the characters aren't.

**

(2014)

**

"We should've brought a deck of cards or something."

Natasha, lying on her back in the bed of the "borrowed" pickup truck, uncrossed her legs and crossed them again the other way, her bare foot bobbing to the beat of the radio. Her toenails were painted navy blue. "Yeah, I guess. We could always play I Spy."

Steve drank from his water bottle and offered it to Natasha, who accepted it. "I spy something green, because we're surrounded by trees. There. We played."

After sipping from the bottle, Natasha handed it back to him. "Hey, you're the one who said we shouldn't approach the base in broad daylight."

Steve balled his hoodie into a small but functional pillow and arranged his much larger body next to her. The sky above them, though filtered by a canopy of leaves, had darkened from its former brilliant blue, not unlike the color of Steve's eyes. "I didn't hear you disagree."

"Good point." Natasha's full, pink lips curled upward. After a moment, she turned on her side, propping herself on her elbow and tossing her flat-ironed red hair behind her shoulder. She had removed her jacket and hoodie, too, leaving her in a grey tank top; Steve couldn't help noticing how nicely she filled it out. "So. Back to earlier."

"Oh, no," Steve groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes. Of course she would want to return to the topic of their "camouflage kiss" at the mall and his lack of practice when he desperately wanted to put it out of his mind.

"Oh, yes. So, if that wasn't your first kiss since 1945," Natasha said in her low, husky voice, "spill it. Who've you been kissing?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"He does if he's holed up in the woods in the back of a stolen truck with a former Soviet spy, and they're both bored."

He couldn't help grinning at that.

"Well?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her green eyes drilling into him. He had never been on the receiving end of one of her interrogations, but he imagined most would be slightly less uncomfortable than this one.

"There's really been nothing... serious."

"Ooh. One night stands? How tawdry," she teased, and Steve's face colored.

"C'mon. _No_. Of course not. Just, like, a fan here and there who aims for the lips instead of the cheek." Steve put on his dignified face. "I don't do one night stands or sex with strangers."

"Are you telling me Captain America doesn't need to get laid from time to time?"

Steve gaped at her, speechless, and Natasha's smile widened.

"Correct me if I'm wrong here, Steve." Her voice had moved from husky straight into sultry territory. "Not only have you kissed no one voluntarily since World War II, but you've also been celibate for at least that long." She feigned a little gasp. "That is, assuming you're not a--"

"I'm not a virgin!" Steve said more loudly than he intended, his eyes widening comically even though the two of them were the only humans present for miles. Natasha laughed, throwing her head back, and he tried to glare at her but got sidetracked by the pale, graceful curve of her throat. He lowered his voice and hissed, "I'm almost a hundred years old, Nat. I _have_ had sex. It's just been a while."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "A while as in a few months, or as in decades?"

"How did I let you involve me in this conversation?" Steve sighed, tucking his hands beneath his head, his face aflame. "Okay. I'll admit it was during the war. Does that make you happy?"

"Not even a little bit, even if I do seem like I'm gloating." She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her distractingly plush mouth. "I've got to know. What did the serum do to your sex drive?"

"Oh, God." Steve's face reddened further, although he was still grinning. "Really?"

"Yes, really!" Natasha rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands, and Steve's traitorous eyes dropped to her substantial cleavage. He had a great deal of restraint, but it _had_ been quite a while, and there was no denying the woman was beyond sexy; he shifted and crossed one leg over the other, willing his suddenly attentive cock to go back to sleep. "It enhanced you physically in every other way, right? So I _know_ it had to have affected that." She smirked, flicking her eyebrows skyward. "Did you get bigger _everywhere_?"

He buried his face in his hands, laughing, embarrassed but, despite his better judgment, a little intrigued at the direction of the conversation. "You're the worst, just so you know."

"Answer me!" She reached across the space between them and flicked him in the side of the head, making him laugh harder.

"All right, all right. No need for violence." Steve dropped his hands, meeting her eyes. "Yeah, it pretty well enhanced everything. Uh... size included."

"Ooh, nice." Natasha's eyes widened a fraction. Steve noticed. "So, like, enhanced how? Do you last a lot longer?"

"Sort of..."

She pushed his shoulder. Her fingers were warm through the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Come on!"

"I, uh... yeah, I have a lot better stamina, but that's not saying much. I used to lose my breath just walking across a room." His tongue crept out to wet his full lower lip, and Natasha's eyes dropped to his mouth. "But I can also, um... I can go four or five times without stopping before it really gets to be... too much, y'know?"

Her lips pursed, she breathed out a kind of near-silent whistle, her eyes locked on his. "That's hot, Rogers." It seemed she wasn't exaggerating; her face was flushed, a phenomenon Steve had never experienced outside of battle. She was always beautiful, but right now, she was beautiful in a disarmingly vulnerable way. He watched her pale throat work as she swallowed audibly, and she actually looked away first, rolling onto her back, her jean-clad legs no longer crossed, one bent at the knee and moving slightly back and forth.

"Well, well." Steve rolled his head to the side to give her a sly smile. "Is it possible? Have I flapped the unflappable Widow?"

"I wouldn't say flapped," she replied, clearly trying to maintain her stoic façade despite the color in her cheeks. She brought her eyes back to Steve's. "Let's just say it's been a while for me too. Nowhere near seventy years, but long enough."

"No way. You could have literally any man you wanted just by snapping your fingers."

"You're a doll," she said, winking at him. "There just hasn't been time for dating between missions and debriefings and sociopathic demigods with alien armies, and since I don't do one night stands either, I've just had to go without or do it myself."

"Mmm." Steve meant it to sound sympathetic, but it came out sounding a bit predatory, and he felt himself flush again.

Natasha's lips curved upward, and she turned on her side to face him; the action, Steve noted, brought her a few inches closer to him. He could smell the sweet, herbal fragrance of her shampoo, which he had first noticed when she kissed him on the escalator. The feminine essence was about as far from the scent burnt into his memory of his last -- and only -- lover, so many years ago, who smelled like fresh air and motor oil and sweat and the soap they used to wash their clothes in the kitchen sink of their tiny, run-down apartment in Brooklyn, and later like gunpowder and dirt and fear and yet still like his perfect, delicious self.

Blinking, Steve realized he had lost a few seconds when he jumped a little as Natasha ran her fingertip down his bare bicep. "So," she said, her voice even huskier than usual. The sound went straight to his crotch, and he barely resisted the impulse to cover the area with his hands. "Let's add everything up here. We're both kind of hard up at the moment. Neither of us wants to have sex with strangers, but we've known each other, what, two years now? And here we are, all alone in the middle of the woods with nothing to do for at least three more hours."

"Umm," Steve said intelligently. His blood had rushed from his brain to occupy a more southerly region at the implication of Natasha's words.

"Feel free to say no," she purred, her fingertip trailing back up his arm, up the side of his neck, and around the shell of his ear. "I just thought we could help each other out a little. I'm sure you know as well as I do that some itches, you just can't scratch by yourself."

Steve lost his breath in a rush, swallowing hard as he reached for her. She came willingly, swinging one long leg over his hips and leaning down to press a brief kiss to his mouth. His hands rested on her slim waist until she nipped lightly at his lower lip; then, something in him broke, and he slid his hands to the swell of her ass, squeezing as hard as he dared. She moaned softly against his lips, grinding her hips into his, and he shuddered, pressure building to urgent levels behind his zipper.

Rising to her knees, Natasha skinned off her tank top, revealing a black, lace trimmed bra, before guiding Steve to sit up. This was uncharted territory for him, and he glanced upward at her, taking in her half-lidded eyes and moist, parted lips, before hesitantly cupping her high, full breasts with both hands and burying his face between them, kissing her sternum. Impatiently, Natasha reached back and unclasped her bra.

"Has women’s underwear changed that much since the forties?" she teased, and his face warmed again.

"Probably not. I've just never... um. Been with someone who, uh, wore it."

"Steve! You said you've--" Natasha stopped, realization dawning across her exquisite features. "Oh... oh, Steve. I didn't..."

"Shh." He reached up to draw the lacy straps of the bra off her shoulders. "That doesn't mean I don't want to."

Steve cast the bra aside and cupped Natasha's firm bare breasts again, kissing down the swell of one and up the other before pausing to draw one soft pink nipple into his mouth. She sighed, arching into the touch and locking her fingers in his hair, emboldening him to stroke the other with the pad of his thumb until he was ready to switch sides. By that time, Natasha was trembling, so he kissed his way up her neck to meet her lips, letting her devour his mouth at her leisure.

“Okay, that one was _much_ better than the one at the mall,” she gasped when she released him, running her fingertip over his lips.

“You caught me by surprise the first time.” Steve’s hands trailed down her bare back, coming to rest just above her jeans. “I _do_ know what I’m doing as far as that goes.”

Natasha smirked down at him. “And I know what I’m doing as far as the rest, so all I need you to do is get those clothes off and get comfortable.”

“Huh.” Steve watched her, dumbstruck, as she climbed off his lap and popped the button on her jeans, managing to look slinky and graceful even as she wiggled out of the tight denim, leaving her wearing nothing but a pair of red lace panties that left little to the imagination. Steve exhaled in a rush, quivering with anticipation, and shed his t-shirt and jeans much less elegantly.

His mouth hanging open, Steve watched as Natasha actually _crawled_ back over to him, just like a temptress in a steamy movie, and climbed back into his lap, straddling one muscular thigh. Her warmth nearly blew his mind; it felt like a furnace was pressed against his leg, and for the first time, he actually imagined sliding into that heat, so very different from anything he’d ever experienced.

"Wow, Steve." She trailed her unpainted fingernails down his chest and abs. "You've got a great body for an old man."

He raised his eyebrows. "Watch it, Romanoff. I can still change my mind."

"Change _your_ mind?" Natasha’s smile was dangerous, her hand moving downward to stroke his painfully stiff cock through his boxer briefs. "You sure you want to do that?"

With a low grunt, Steve closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head. "Not at all, actually."

Nodding in satisfaction, she wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his short blond hair. With the other hand, she lifted the waistband of his underwear and dragged it downward, tucking it snug beneath his balls. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, drawing a heavy breath from him. "Oh my God," she said with wide eyes, "if you did _Playgirl_ , you'd have women lined up around the block to get their hands on this thing."

Steve flushed, a bashful grin ghosting over his face before he leaned in to kiss her again, slow and deep. Her hand moved slowly up and down his length, and he broke the kiss to suck in a shaky breath. "I'm out of practice," he said, sheepish. "Feels a lot different when it's somebody else's hand."

"Wait till I put it somewhere else." Natasha illustrated that by grinding against his thigh, and they both sighed a little at that.

Steve's curiosity -- among other things -- got the better of him, and he guided her to rise to her knees, his eyes locked with hers while he pulled her panties down her thighs. "Impatient much?" she teased, and he nodded, half smiling.

"You've looked in a mirror lately, right?"

Kicking the scrap of red lace into the corner of the truck bed, she climbed back into his lap, legs on either side of him again, and crossed her wrists almost casually behind his neck. She watched as his hands, impossibly large against her delicate frame, moved hesitantly over her body, following the curve here, testing the firmness there. One came to rest on the luscious swell of her ass while the other smoothed over the outside of her thigh and back up the inside. Her quickening breath bolstering his confidence, he laid a soft kiss just above her bellybutton and pulled back just far enough to see what he was doing as he slid one tentative finger along the smooth-shaven slit at the juncture of her slim thighs, marveling at the velvet softness.

Lifting his eyes to Natasha's face, Steve drank in the pink of her cheeks and the darkness of her eyes as she stared back at him, nodding as she pressed her teeth into her lower lip. Encouraged, Steve traced his finger along the length of her slit again, forward and then back, before succumbing to the temptation of the warmth beyond, sliding his fingertip between her plush lips and smiling against her stomach at the low gasp she gave. "Okay?" he murmured.

"Oh, yeah." Her voice came out breathy and soft, and she spread her legs further, sending a shiver through him. "Let me know if you need a map or something."

"Smart-ass." Steve narrowed his eyes at her, but the only fire behind it was the one burning in the pit of his belly. She shrugged, resting a hand on his shoulder, shifting more of her weight onto him as he gently explored her. He remembered enough from his much younger days -- a certain someone he knew _very_ well used to regale him with detailed stories about the ladies he took out before he and Steve ultimately crashed together like the magnets they were always destined to be -- and had watched enough internet porn since his new life began that he thought he could, if not be considered an expert, at least find his way around.

Natasha's breath grew quicker still when Steve slid a finger, slow and reverent, deep into her wet heat, and she rested her forehead on the top of his head, humming softly into his hair. Sucking a breath through his teeth, he murmured, "God... you’re so wet," and slipped a second finger in alongside the first.

She moaned, her back arching, and he took advantage by drawing a nipple into his mouth again. With his thumb, while his fingers moved inside her, he sought the small mound he knew – clinically, at least -- should heighten her pleasure, but when he found it, the gasping cry she released was a stronger reaction than he expected. With much less hesitation than before, he rubbed his thumb in gentle circles, the moisture from inside her smoothing the way, while he continued fingering her and lightly worrying her nipple between his teeth and his tongue.

"Oh, God -- Steve -- don't stop, don't stop!" Natasha stiffened, her mouth open, her breath caught in her throat, and he looked up just in time to watch her face contort prettily as she came with clipped cries escaping her lips, yanking on the hair at the back of his head, writhing and grinding down against his fingers, her entire body thrumming. It seemed to go on forever as Steve watched her in astonishment until she pushed his hand away and sank into his lap, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"Still think I need a map?" he whispered into her hair, and she laughed, her breath hot against his throat.

She kissed the side of his neck, sucking lightly at his skin. "I think you could draw the map. Now let's see if you can do that again with that big dick."

Steve's eyelids fluttered and his cock twitched against his belly. "Damn, you're fun."

"So I've been told." Natasha pulled back and winked at him.

"Wait." Steve frowned. "Do you, uh, have any... protection? I mean, I can't carry or transmit any diseases -- the serum -- but--"

"Then we're fine," she said, her tone brisk. "I can never get pregnant, so if you're okay with going without, I'm good with it, too."

"Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Hush." Natasha shook her head, her smirk reappearing. "This works out for both of us. Who wants to use condoms anyway?"

"Honestly," Steve said with a wistful smile, "I'd have no idea how. We never did."

Stroking his cheek with the back of her fingers, Natasha eyed him with uncharacteristic sympathy for a beat before bending down to kiss him. "How do you want to do this?"

"Any way that makes you holler like that again. Jesus Christ."

"Why, Rogers -- I'm shocked. And I thought you were such a good Irish Catholic boy," Natasha deadpanned. "Stay exactly where you are."

He watched her climb back into his lap, nudging his legs closer together as she did, and reach behind herself to guide him into position, sinking all the way onto him in one smooth stroke. That was new for Steve, although he didn't say it; even if he thought it was a good idea (which he didn't), he doubted he could speak anyway. It turned out Natasha was vocal enough for both of them, low moans growing louder by the second. Steve was hypnotized the serpentine movement of her body, so unlike a man from the curves of her hips to the entrancing jiggle of her breasts, and before he realized it was happening, his orgasm hit him like a truck.

"Fuck, Nat!" he groaned, clutching at her hips, using the last of his remaining sense to avoid gripping hard enough to bruise, jackhammering upward again and again until the wave crested and broke, leaving him panting into her skin.

"Holy shit." Her eyes were wide and dazed, her hips still moving against him. "First of all, you are are seriously huge, and you're probably going to spoil me for any man who’s not hung like a horse. Also, I can't believe you're still hard as a rock."

"I wasn't kidding," Steve mumbled, blinking to clear his vision.

"And, last but not least, is that the kind of language you use around a lady?" She laughed when he frowned, trying to remember what he had said and blushing when he remembered.

"I'm sorry. I haven't dropped an f-bomb since... probably since the last time I did this, I guess."

Her lips, soft and warm, brushed his ear. "I'll tell you a secret."

"What?"

"I thought it was hot as hell." She gave him a sly smile, leaning close to lick his lips. "You can talk as dirty as you want as long as you fuck me hard and make me come at least one more time."

Steve nodded dumbly and set immediately to work. It really wasn't much like work at all.

By the time Steve could no longer stand even one more second of sensation, the position of the sun had changed entirely, he had come four times, Natasha _six,_ and they were both thoroughly exhausted. Dropping to his elbows while conscientious of keeping his body weight from crushing her, he blinked sweat out of his eyes, panting, and buried his face in her neck. She let her head fall back onto the floor of the truck bed, her legs draped around Steve's hips.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week," Natasha said, stretching her arms above her head, which did marvelous things to her already marvelous breasts. "Totally worth it, by the way."

"Mmm." Steve couldn't manage real words yet, and besides, his mouth was mashed against her shoulder.

She laughed, petting his head. "Don't fall asleep on me. I have to clean up."

"Mm-hmm." Steve breathed deeply against her skin for another few seconds -- even sweaty, she smelled amazing -- and then pulled back, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before rolling off her. He dug in the inside pocket of his abandoned jacket and came out with a neatly folded handkerchief, which he handed her with a wry smile.

"Just when I start thinking you're not as old-fashioned as they say," she said, grinning. "Thank you."

Steve considerately turned away, stepping into his underwear and jeans and shrugging his t-shirt over his head before collapsing on his back with his hoodie once again functioning as a pillow. Natasha was mostly dressed by then, smoothing her t-shirt down and buttoning her jeans, and she stretched out next to Steve with a modest distance between them. He turned his head to give her an incredulous look.

"After all that, I can't even get a cuddle out of you?" He kept his voice light, but he felt strangely vulnerable.

She laughed. "Since when do I strike you as the cuddly type?"

"Oh, you can't make an exception for the guy who just got you off a half dozen times? Or did you forget my name after I made you scream it over and over?"

"Okay, you have a point there." She moved closer, tucking into the crook of his arm.

"Damn right."

"Just don't go falling in love with me, Rogers."

He laughed. "I'll try." He couldn't begin to imagine how he even could fall in love with Natasha or anyone else; his heart would forever remain shattered in a frostbitten ravine halfway around the world.

They were quiet for a while, watching puffy, white clouds float past overhead. Steve's eyes were starting to slip closed when Natasha's soft voice broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about him?"

Steve paused, concentrating on keeping his breathing even, and after a while, he was able to respond. "He was... still _is_ my everything. For me, it's only been a couple years since I lost him. I don't know if it'll ever stop hurting." He swallowed, blinking. "I guess I hope it never does. At least it means I remember him. If I ever forget, I don't want to keep living."

Natasha nodded slowly. "Maybe you should try seeing someone. Even casually, just to get your mind off him and dip your toe back into the pool. I have a couple single gay friends I could set something up with."

"No, thanks, Nat. Really. There was only ever one fella for me."

"Well, maybe a non-fella, then."

Steve chuckled but didn't answer. "We still have an hour or so before sundown. How about a nap?"

"That sounds wonderful." She sighed, an easy, contented sound. "And thanks. I definitely needed that."

"Me, too." Steve closed his eyes, drifting off almost immediately, and when he dreamed, he dreamed of eyes the color of the ocean on a cloudy day, thick, dark hair, full lips, a dimpled chin, and an irresistible smile.

**

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder how Steve would feel if he knew he'd be seeing a very much not dead Bucky in less than 24 hours...


End file.
